


Wanted

by AeeDee



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another fill for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/yj_anon_meme/">YJ anon meme</a>, asking for a prompt about a 'Cuddle Partner'.  And who loves cuddles more than Wally?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanted

He can’t stop; his hands are not his own. But his friend’s body is warm and soft and resisting is difficult.

It’s not a sexual urge. It’s not inappropriate. But dammit he’s _warm_ and Wally wants, more than anything, to just be warm for a while.

When he hears a small whine of protest, a small squeak of, “ _Dude_ ,” he tries to ignore it.

But as he gets more comfortable and sinks even further in, sinks into the warmth, pressing himself against this warm and soft body, curling against him like a contented cat, there it is again; “Dude.”

He shifts slightly, unable to detach himself, but starting to feel the onset of guilt. He knows he should have more politeness and self-control, but…

Dick’s voice, more irritated than it was before, “Where are your hands right now?”

Wally slowly looks up at him, from where his face is nudged against the boy’s shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and feigning innocence. “Nowhere?”

Dick frowns, looking back to stare down at him.

Wally slowly withdraws, slinking away like a pet that’s misbehaved, tail between his legs.

The room is so cold. The room is so cold, and he hates to let go, but he’d rather withdraw and feel cold and alone than to upset him. Because few creatures in all the world are as terrifying or menacing as Dick when he’s actually _mad_.

So Wally withdraws; face unable to hide some of his hurt. He feels a slow blush creep onto his face, as he murmurs an apology, “Sorry.”

Dick shakes his head, “ _Not_ okay.”

“Sorry.”

Dick sighs, his eyes idly drifting to focus on the television screen.

Normally, it wouldn’t be an issue. It wasn’t an issue the first time. Or the second. Or the third. But this is round four, and Dick’s feeling noticeably less compassionate.

After a moment of thought, the boy places light, but firm hands on Wally’s shoulders, and almost comically pushes him, slow and firm, as Wally crawls backwards across the couch; he’s all legs and awkward and stumbling, but it gets the job done. And when he settles down, he does so with a pout, because there is now an inconvenient distance of _feet_ between them.

Dick’s ordering him around like it’s second nature, like an adult to a child, “Just sit over there, okay?”

Wally tries to suppress his frustration. “Okay.” He chews on his lip to stifle the urge to talk. Because talking would reveal how annoyed he was, how _unreasonably_ annoyed he was, how _unusual_ he was, how _clingy_ he was, and how _desperate_ he was; all those words that Dick had used one too many times before.

Dick doesn’t appreciate Wally’s need for affection. He’s learning to enjoy giving the occasional hug for a special moment, but he does not appreciate being leaned against, snuggled into, or embraced casually. And he especially does not appreciate accidentally being fondled by roaming hands that dig into his body like it doesn’t even belong to him. Every time Wally gets too comfortable, he can _feel_ those hands. Those wandering fingers, that insistent exploration, as if his friend is trying to submerge himself inside him, to pass through the barrier of his skin like it’s incorporeal.

When Wally snuggles up to Dick, he presses himself so tight against him that Dick feels him shift accordingly when he breathes.

He doesn’t understand it. He can’t even pretend to understand where any of it comes from. They’re close. He gets that. But they’re also _friends_ , and other friends he knows do not spend their time trying to bond and merge together at an atomic level. Friends aren’t supposed to lean in the way Wally does; friends aren’t supposed to hold you and pleasantly sigh every time you accidentally move closer.

He’s asked Wally if he’s gay. The answer is always a defiant No.

He’s even asked Wally, “You’re _sure_ you’re not gay for me?” The answer is always No.

So what gives. _What gives_ , Wally.

Dick notices a familiar sound emanating from him, and he sends a glare in Wally’s direction. “Dude. I can hear you.”

“What?” Wally blinks back at him one time, a touch of confusion in his otherwise heavy eyes.

Dick frowns. “The _sighing_.”

“I’m not sighing.”

“You were totally sighing.”

“I’m just _bored_ now.” Wally’s a terrible liar.

“I thought you liked this movie.”

“I do! Just… ” He pauses.

Dick waits for the rest of that sentence.

“Nothing.” And just like that, Wally shuts down. He closes up. He draws his knees close to his body and loosely embraces them, like he’s trying to console himself.

Dick never knows how to respond to a moment like this.

So instead, he just gives him a blank look. “Whatever.”

-

When Dick shows Wally the freshly inked sheet of paper, complete with precisely handwritten lines of words he’d spent the last hour filling in, the boy’s eyes widen. He can’t contain his amazement; but it’s not the positive kind. He’s not happy.

Wally gives a slow frown, as his eyebrows sink lower and lower, for every second that Dick points to the finely inked letters. He’s about to start reading it out loud for emphasis—and to show off his hard work—when Wally cuts him off.

“That’s not a funny joke,” his voice is dry; neutral and low to mask his hurt.

“Huh?” Dick asks, perplexed. _Wait._ Why is he getting offended-

“It’s not funny,” Wally crosses his arms.

“What…”

He snaps at him, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

For once, Dick doesn’t have a comeback.

Wally rises to his feet, “But you know what? I get it. I _get_ it, so let’s just drop it.”

“Wally, I didn’t mean-”

But Wally’s already gone.

_What._

Dick isn’t sure what he’s feeling more of; guilt, or frustration.

-

It’s a short while later that someone else finds the paper; bright eyes and delicate fingers that hold it up, reading it carefully. And that soft voice happens to ask out loud, to anyone in the room that will listen, “What’s a _cuddle buddy_?”

And somewhere in the room, there’s a snickering from Artemis, “Do I even _want_ to know?” She pauses, and almost seems to laugh at herself. “Oh yes. Of course I do,” as she makes her way over.

Megan’s still holding the paper, uncertain of its meaning as she frowns at each word. She reads its perplexing statement out loud to enlighten the others, a group that currently only includes Artemis and Conner—even if he’s not actually interested.

“ _Seeking a Cuddle Buddy_ ,” as she smiles a little, “That doesn’t sound too bad. Cuddling is fun, right?”

Once she gets lost in thought and relaxes her grip on the edges of the page, Artemis gently snatches it away from her.

Artemis reads the rest with a grin tugging at the corner of her lips, “ _Must enjoy Cuddling, Watching Movies, Napping, and…_ ” as her eyes wander further down the page, she fights back a laugh, “ _Kissing optional._ ”

“Kissing?” Megan’s eyes grow wide. “Why would that…”

Artemis starts to giggle, as she squints to read the small print, “ _Contact Robin for details._ ” As she hands the paper back to a very perplexed Megan, she’s laughing so hard that she starts to cry.

“I don’t.. understand,” Megan finally decides. “Can someone explain this to me?”

At this, Conner finally feels the inclination to respond. “A cuddle buddy… is a buddy who… cuddles.”

Artemis smirks at him with a slight roll of her eyes, but she decides to cut Megan some slack. “Cuddling, you know, like when you hug someone a lot. And a buddy is a friend to do that with.”

Megan gives a small smile, “I understand.” But after a moment of thought, “And the kissing..?”

Artemis puts her hands up, and with a shake of her head, “No clue. But it _does_ feel good.” She gives a sideways glance, “I could even go for one right now…”

But Conner’s long gone.

Another smirk, “Figures.”

-

Dick is smart; he doesn’t tell anyone who the flyer’s written for. They assume it’s to fill some need he has, and he lets that rumor fly. It does a lot to spare Wally’s feelings—currently, his fragile pride—and it helps to restore their friendship back to its usual happy place.

But there’s one complication.

Everybody keeps trying to _hug_ him.

The girls think it’s adorable. Megan gives a tight, warm hug; the kind of embrace that makes it difficult to breathe around the pressure. Artemis hugs like a friend, a casual embrace that’s more tolerable, but unnecessarily prolonged. And with the accompanying smirking and laughing, it makes Dick so embarrassed he’d much rather run off and hide somewhere.

The boys didn’t react as strongly; but even Kaldur was attempting his own breed of stiff _bro hug_ , a half-hug gesture that was so uncomfortable and awkward that it almost made Dick feel bad for inconveniencing him. And what was that for, anyway? Did he feel pity? Dick was certain that Kaldur would never be one to nominate himself as a full-time cuddle partner.

But even so. This entire situation is getting so awkward and it has to stop.

But he can’t tell the truth.

He can’t tell everyone that _yes_ , he was making fun but _yes_ , he is genuinely concerned for his friend Wally, who honest to God could use, and would appreciate all of the blind affection they’re offering. He can’t tell them that Wally often snuggles against him so close that he can feel him breathing against his neck. Not because he’s in love, or aroused, or hiding ulterior motives. None he can see. Wally’s not in love with Dick, and he knows that. He’s not in love; he’s in need.

He _needs_. He needs their affection, their adoration, their hugs, their warm smiles. He needs their love; he’s starving for it. He’s craving for it.

And Dick has no idea why, he honestly doesn’t, but it hurts that he can’t say a single word about it.

He wants to fix his friend, and ease him of his troubles.

He just has no idea how.

When he’s standing there, struggling to breathe in the arms of a girl like Megan, _warm,_ smiling Megan, rarely has Dick Grayson felt so insignificant and small.

-

Wally’s doing it again. His arms wound around Dick’s slender chest, he’s sighing pleasantly as he curls up against his back. Dick wants to move him away again, but he doesn’t have the heart to do it. Not this time.

Because it’s been two weeks and Wally’s been unable to stop doing this.

When Dick finally asks, “What’s _wrong_ with you?” his voice hangs in the room, his words hollow and echoing through their mutual silence.

But instead of giving an answer back, Wally remains silent.

Dick shifts uncomfortably, as he’s starting to nudge himself away from Wally’s grasp, as he starts to hold onto him even tighter;

Until he feels the slow spread of wet spots collecting on the back of his shirt.

_Dammit, Wally._

Dick gives a silent sigh, wanting to express his grievances without upsetting his friend.

_Goddammit._

-

It takes a lot to make Wally cry.

Threaten to, and nearly succeed in killing his friends. Threaten, and nearly succeed in killing his family. Choosing just the right, sentimental movie from his childhood.

That day, it was one moment. One image painted vividly in his mind.

The first thing he heard was laughter; warm laughter, from genuine joy. Laughter, and as he rounded the corner and stepped into the room, the face of a happy girl, smiling with her arms around a very clueless boy that couldn’t be more obviously embarrassed to be there.

But it wasn’t just that.

Around them, another smiling girl laughing in a way that was from pure adoration. And an ordinarily stiff and formal young man that found it in himself to smile at the scene. And a boy that was ordinarily mute and stoic, breaking his seriousness to manage a subtle grin.

In Artemis’ arms, his friend Dick was awkward and out of place. He was embarrassed and almost _blushing_ at them, for goodness sake.

But that didn’t change anything, because…

Their love for him filled the room.

And Wally, he-

He didn’t really know what that felt like.

-

“ _Cuddle Buddy_ ,” Roy frowned, as his lips sneered with disgust.

Dick was sending him a perplexed look, and he was giving a slow sigh, “Look, it’s not what it sounds like…”

“It’s not,” a statement that was more of a judgment than a question.

“No, geez,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. “I tried to tell them, but.. I couldn’t, it’s not…”

“It’s not what.”

“It’s not… you know… _me_ ,” his voice is tiny and fragile.

A pause; a thoughtful one.

They’re exchanging stares, as those firm hands grasping the paper start to read over it one more time. “This is…” he ventures, “for someone else.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dick gives an audible sigh of relief. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

Another silence. More thought. “I see.”

Dick looks up at him, dumbfounded as he crosses his arms. “Really? That’s all you’ve got for me?”

“What do you expect.”

Dick forces himself to keep his mouth shut; if Roy’s reacting badly, it’d do good to cut him off.

“This is a joke.”

Dick stares up at him in disbelief.

“You make a flyer like this, expecting.. what, exactly. That someone is going to say, _I have hugs to give_ , and they’ll just make your problem go away?”

“It’s not my problem,” Dick snaps back, “I told you-”

“It _is_ your problem. Because when someone needs a hug, most _friends_ will fucking shut up and do it.”

“I…”

“You’re just being a brat,” he hands the paper back to him, as Dick accepts it with hesitant, uncertain hands. “And this is _not_ the kind of shit I get involved in.”

Dick’s too irritated to speak.

“Be kind to him,” he sends him a sideways glare, “Because you know he’d do the same for you.” On that note he turns to leave, picking his bow off the floor.

Dick is watching him in silence, caught somewhere between offended and upset when he pauses, a sudden realization seizing his face as his eyes grow wide. “ _He…_ ”

“What, Dick.”

In a small voice, “I didn’t say who it was.”

Roy simply stares back.

Dick’s eyes have yet to return to their normal shape.

“It makes sense,” Roy calmly responds. “You’re only this mean to Wally.”

“What?”

But Roy’s already leaving.

“Hey, wait. Wait a second.”

Roy’s not turning around.

His boots echo across the floor as he makes his way back towards the entrance of the room, and Dick watches in a quiet sort of despair as his silhouette gets smaller and smaller, as he’s vanishing into the shadows lurking along the distant far wall.

_I…_

_I’m not mean._

But the more he thinks about it, the more uncertain he feels.

All he wanted was some advice. A helpful ear to hear his plight, and offer him a clever way out. A clever fix to solve the mess and to help bandage whatever was broken with Wally.

But in one sentence, Roy had opened a new wound.

-

Wally didn’t ask Roy for his help. He didn’t ask anyone for anything. So when he arrived home and received a sudden text message and saw Roy’s name on the screen and immediately read the corresponding words beneath it, he wasn’t sure what to think.

Roy was his friend; it wasn’t abnormal for him to contact him, even out of nowhere. But this. _This_ is abnormal.

His message is short and direct, as always. He can almost hear his stern voice, ordering him. Demanding it of him.

_Come over._

-

Wally and Roy have an understanding. They spend time together once a week, every Wednesday afternoon. Roy will order them some food, usually pizza or Chinese take-out from a familiar place down the street, and they’ll sit on the couch and play videogames or find a movie to watch. There isn’t much to it, but it’s a tradition Wally has always enjoyed. It feels good to spend time with someone that isn’t Dick, even if the kid is his best friend. He enjoys the habitual diversion from his usual routine.

So he expects that situation, when he arrives at Roy’s doorstep.

But this isn’t Wednesday. This is Friday, one of the busiest evenings for crime in all of Central City. Being the devoted and increasingly paranoid workaholic he is, Roy would never take the day off.

And yet, here he is. He answers the door in a casual outfit, gray jeans and a loose t-shirt. When that door opens, Wally immediately catches the delicious scent of food. Too many unique flavors to readily identify, a pleasurable myriad of aroma.

It’s not pizza. It’s not their usual take-out. It is… He can’t place it. It’s something new.

When he rushes in, expecting to see boxes on the kitchen counter, instead there are… plates. And there is _food_ on them. Food, hot and steaming up, food that looks like… stir fry? Wally’s plate is piled so high with assorted vegetables, cut-up chicken and rice that he could barely see the edges of the plate beneath it.

He slows down, looking for the tell-tale signs of ordering in. No boxes. No bags. Just pans on the stove, and the heavy scents of cooked food and seasoning in the air.

Roy… _cooked_ for him?

Bizarre.

“H-h-wow,” Wally manages a line of gibberish, somewhere between a greeting and a show of amazement.

He glances at Roy for some reaction or justification, but he’s neutral as could be. “It’s not much.”

Wally gives him a perplexed stare.

“I hope it’s good,” as Roy pulls out one of the bar stools and sits down at the counter.

When Wally doesn’t follow suit immediately, he gives him a curious look, almost like he’s offended or concerned.

Wally doesn’t want him to worry, so he quickly finds his seat, his legs dangling off the ledge of the stool, as he idly kicks the air to relieve some anxiety.

This is weird. This is… weird.

“What’s the special occasion?” he manages a grin, to keep his tone light. But his eyes give him away, as he frowns in surprise at Roy reaching over and pouring him a drink, something that looks like a mild juice into a glass.

He sets the glass down in front of him, gently sliding it closer with a nudge of his fingers, “I felt like it.”

“Oh,” there’s much more he’d like to say, but he doesn’t know how to open the conversation. He has too many questions to easily decipher any of them. He stabs a piece of diced chicken with his fork, eyeing it curiously before gathering some rice on there, and raising it to his mouth.

Roy’s watching him oddly; it takes a second before Wally realizes how _slowly_ he’s eating. He’s acting suspicious. It needs to stop.

So he makes an effort to chew faster, to _taste_ faster, and holy _shit_ this is _amazing_. His other thoughts are wiped from his brain as that flavor sinks in, a hint of spice and a sweet kick with a hint of lemon that makes his toes curl.

In his food-induced daze, he manages, “You made this?”

“Yeah,” Roy acknowledges, completely failing to see the big deal as he starts working at his own serving. He eats in silence, as Wally continues to squirm beside him, almost moaning in happiness and joy as he starts to eat faster and faster, as the flavors are compounding on themselves and accentuating each other and _oh my god_ Roy needs to cook more often.

Roy’s stoic murmur startles him, “You like it?”

Wally’s too busy chewing to talk, but he nods quickly, his whole body shaking with his enthusiasm. When he pauses between bites, he rambles out an, “It’samazing,” and gets back to dealing significant damage to his plate. Food is vanishing even faster than it usually does for him, and the white polished ceramic starts to emerge in its wake.

Roy looks down towards the counter, and murmurs a quiet, “Thanks.”

Wally doesn’t seem to hear it; he doesn’t respond.

But when Roy glances at him for some vindication of that, Wally’s beaming back at him with a smile. He smiles, and his eyes light up, “You’re welcome.” And he gives an extended sigh of contentment, “Pleasedothismoreoften.”

Almost against his will, Roy’s mouth curves into a small grin, “Sure.” But as if he’s catching himself in the act, he quickly diverts his attention back to his dinner, chewing idly as Wally polishes up the last of his food with scraping noises of his fork collecting what’s left.

Roy’s sitting there calmly, still chewing in silence when Wally gets up to wash his plate in the sink. Roy’s eyes follow him as if he’s intrigued, but it’s uncertain as to what he’s so invested in, and his stare makes Wally nervous. Was it rude to just get up like this? Is that why he’s…

But Roy startles him, speaking suddenly, “I’ll take care of that.”

Wally pauses, as he’s setting the plate down in the sink, “But you’re not done yet.”

“It’s okay,” and he’s standing up, as he gets down off the stool and starts to come around the counter. He murmurs a clarification, “Not hungry anyway.”

Wally’s eyes widen, before he frowns in protest, “Then why cook?”

“Hm,” Roy tilts his head at him, before gently nudging him out of the way, waving him away from the sink as he moves in.

Wally remains close, leaning towards him, their faces only inches apart as he continues to protest, “Why go through all this trouble, if you didn’t want food?”

Roy shrugs, as he turns on the faucet, and the rush of water muffles his words, “Just felt like it.”

Wally doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t get it. Not at all.

Roy gives another low command, “Hand me my plate.”

Wally pauses.

Roy extends a hand out, and waits. And frowns when there’s a _delay_.

Wally sheepishly hands the plate back.

And it’s… very light. Roy steals a glance at it, confirming his suspicions that it’s empty.

Wally shrugs, “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Roy gives a small chuckle, “It’s okay.”

In truth, Roy doesn’t care. There is nothing sacred in his kitchen. There is nothing that Wally can’t have, if he wants. There is nothing he can’t freely take.

There’s more he’d like Wally to lay a claim on, as well. But he won’t speak about that.

So he’s washing that second plate off, hands in the sink as he asks Wally, “What should we watch?”

Wally leans against him for a moment, as he peers down and watches his hands at work, eyes heavy as he presses his face against his shoulder and thinks out loud. “Hmm… I could go for a sci-fi.”

That’s not true. He actually wants a-

“Too depressing,” Roy idly comments; when he reaches out to grab a paper towel to dry his hands off, he idly suggests, “You like chick flicks, don’t you?”

That’s what he wants.

Wally gives a small nod, “Yeah,” and he feels a blush creep across his face when he realizes that he’s still pressed against Roy’s arm. He had to have felt him move. He had to have noticed him there, if he didn’t before.

He slowly detaches himself, and covers it with an ambivalent, “I’ll go look,” as he dashes into the next room.

Once he’s alone, Roy gives an empty sigh, exhaling with a tremble that runs through his entire body. His eyes distant and lost, his arm unsteady as he presses his opposite hand over the spot where Wally’s face was, as he massages it gently and tries to linger in that feeling.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and just… lingers.

But the moment is gone.

-

“But I _do_ love you! You’re the Juliet to my Romeo!” the man on the television screen is fumbling with a towel, clutching it over his groin in a comedic fashion.

“What?” the woman exclaims in alarm. “Does that mean I’m gonna die?”

Roy hears Wally giggle to himself.

“No, don’t be stupid!” the man stalks after her, as she’s walking away.

Her eyes grow wide; she freezes and turns to stare at him, rage in her face, “So now I’m stupid?”

“N-no!” he dashes after her, as she steps out the doorway. As she makes a quick paced walk of anger down the steps outside, he exclaims after her, startling himself with how cold the air is, as he shivers, “W-wait! I didn’t mean any of that!” His distressed voice is quite embarrassing, “I-I mean! I did! I’m just terrible at English! I never even read that book!”

Wally laughs again, this time a faint one.

Roy remarks dryly, “This movie is kind of terrible.”

Wally smirks, “I know,” as he scoots a little closer, readjusting the large blanket spread over them. “But it’s cute.” He gets more comfortable, sliding a little closer to Roy as he sinks into the couch, “I wanna see what happens.”

“He’s gonna get the girl,” he comments.

“Shh!” Wally stares at him with wide eyes. “Don’t ruin it.”

Roy turns to give a cold stare, before the corner of his lips deceive him, and turn into an amused smile. “You dork.”

The movie goes on. Wally stretches and extends his foot across the couch, gently pushing and sliding an empty bowl that once housed popcorn into the far corner. He draws his leg back and gets comfortable again, leaning against Roy’s back as he turns his attention back to the movie.

Roy doesn’t notice at first. But when he laughs at something that’s incredibly dumb—I mean seriously, what guy is _that_ stupid—he’s surprised when he notices the weight against his back, like there’s… someone there.

He doesn’t draw attention to it; he’s too scared to even look back. He’s scared to break the moment. Whatever it is. Whatever is happening, he likes it.

Wally scoots a little closer, as he loosely drapes an arm across his waist. But he’s not as comfortable as he’d like to be, so he doesn’t stop moving. He just. Keeps moving.

Roy notices it immediately.

There’s a gentle and faint breathing against the center of his back. A warmth spreading through his body, his own breathing shallow as he glances down and notices that there’s a knee digging against each of his thighs. Arms loosely draped around his waist, and when the boy moves again, his legs become visible, extending out to either side of his body.

He’s being held.

Wally shifts position slightly, to the tune of overhearing dialogue that goes something like, “I _did_ try to tell you! You’re just a terrible listener! Wait…” Another small laugh; his whole body shakes. Roy feels his entire body shake, and he knows exactly where his face is, because he feels him move when he laughs.

_He’s being held._

Roy doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid to breathe.

So instead he keeps as still as he can, trying to resist the temptation to touch those legs, to caress them; to hold one of those hands. To turn around, grab Wally by the shoulders and plant a kiss square on his mouth.

So instead he watches more of the terrible film in silence; even though he couldn’t care any less about what’s happening right now. The guy’s going to get the girl. He already sees it coming.

Wally’s hands move; sliding up across his chest, caressing in an oddly sensual way. A slow and soothing touch that sends a rush through Roy’s entire body. He doesn’t know if he physically shakes, but he hopes that if that spark could be felt through his skin, that Wally is just not _that_ perceptive today.

But he is.

His voice is small and uncertain, “Do you mind this?”

Roy’s eyes widen, even if Wally’s not able to see his change of expression. He keeps his voice calm, at least, “No.” He softens his tone a tad more, to be on the safe side, “Not at all.”

Wally’s voice is still tiny, muffled by the fabric of Roy’s shirt, “But you’re _shaking_."

Roy hurries a proper excuse that’s half-true, “I’m just not used to it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

_And please never stop._

Wally’s hands settle, clasping together in the center of his chest, as he squeezes him tightly, with a contented sigh, “Thanks.”

The movie continues on. The woman, her hands pressed flat against the man’s shoulders, leans forward and growls, “You idiot, _I love you!_ ”

Roy keeps his voice flat, “No problem.”

-

He doesn’t mind.

Wally’s falling asleep, his cheek pressed against Roy’s warm back.

And _he doesn’t mind._

Wally doesn’t fully realize how contented he is, until he realizes he doesn’t want to move. Not to get up and lay down somewhere, not to give Roy any kind of space like a decent person would. The movie end credits are playing and he’s thinking he needs to get up and end this now, or it’s going to get so awkward, but he just doesn’t want to.

He’s feeling love from a strange source. A love that’s ambiguous and subtle and undefined. He wants to credit Roy for it, but he’s not sold on it being intentional. He just knows that Roy is so receptive, so patient and so tolerant that he every time he squeezes his arms firmly around Roy’s chest, he feels like Roy is holding him, too. He just feels warm. He feels warm in his heart, in his soul, in _everything_. Everywhere.

And when Wally sleepily murmurs, “Can you call home for me,” and gives a slight yawn that he suppresses against Roy’s back, he’s still there.

He’s there. “Sure. You staying over?”

Wally nods, knowing for sure now, that Roy can feel it. But he still manages a, “Mhm,” for emphasis.

He feels Roy’s entire body shift forward, as he leans over towards the coffee table. He’s navigating the screen, pushing buttons as Wally finally, _finally_ finds the willpower to detach himself from him. He immediately feels like something’s missing, but this is the decent thing to do, and he rightfully should start behaving. He knows Roy’s not an especially affectionate, touchy-feely sort of person, so the last thing he wants to do is to overstay his welcome into his personal space.

Roy glances back at him, as if surprised, before he lifts the phone and speaks into it. “Oh, hi Barry. It’s Roy.”

Wally listens in with one ear, as he lays back and stretches himself across the couch, sliding his legs behind the space Roy’s occupying. His head against fluffy pillows, he glances up towards the ceiling, eyeing the spinning fan above as Roy clarifies that he’s spending the night over.

“Yeah, sure thing. You too. Bye,” and he ends the call.

“What’d he say?” Wally quietly asks.

“Same as usual,” he sets the phone back onto the table. “Blah blah, have fun, call if anything happens.”

Wally laughs softly, “He’s so paranoid.”

“He cares about you,” Roy shrugs.

A moment of silence; but it’s not bad. It’s contemplative. Roy settles in, idly watching the screen as the movie’s dvd menu starts to loop on repeat.

Wally wants to know what he’s thinking. But he’s kind of afraid of it.

So instead, he asks something else that’s on his mind.

“Hey, in the movie…”

“Yeah,” Roy turns and looks down at him, with some initial surprise as he notices just how _close_ Wally is to him. His eyes even wander down his body slightly, then back up with some embarrassment. Wally knows what he’s questioning.

_Yeah, that’s my leg against your back. Sorry._

But he doesn’t say anything about it.

“So in the movie, did they actually have a kissing scene?”

Roy smirks a little.

“Cause if they did, I totally missed it.”

Roy gives a single nod, “Yeah.”

He stifles a yawn with his hand, “Was it any good?”

“Mm,” Roy shrugs, studying him in silence. “It was alright.”

Wally rolls his eyes, “ _Alright_ , like what?”

“You know,” Roy shrugs again, “ _Alright_. Nothing crazy, but they had chemistry.”

A very faint sound, so faint he doesn’t even open his mouth, “Hmm,” as Wally looks up at him with tired, but curious eyes.

Roy stares back.

“Was it like…” Wally’s eyes glance away, but the further away he tries to look, the more he finds his gaze shifting back to Roy anyway. “One of those _I’ve Always Loved You_ scenes, or just some random make-out?”

Roy sighs a little. “I don’t know. Like…” and he tilts his head.

Wally doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting.

_Dammit, kid._

Roy frowns idly, feeling uncomfortable, but not mean enough to leave him hanging. “It was like… She went up to him, said _You idiot, I love you…_ ” his voice has a slight shake in it, that he hurries to suppress, “He was like, _I told you, all along… I always loved you blah blah._ ” He pauses, and idly bites his lip before he continues, “So she just kinda… leans in and initiates things, hands on his shoulders, and _boom_ , really hard kiss, cheesy music kicks up, etc.”

“Oh,” Wally says, as he reaches up, placing cautious hands over Roy’s shoulders, “Like this,” as he settles into his grasp.

“Yeah,” Roy’s being careful not to react; even if, deep inside, he wants to scream. “But she leans in all assertive, like she’s been waiting for a while.”

“Oh,” and those hands loosen their grip; just a little.

“Like…” Roy reaches out, and places his hands on Wally’s shoulders. Wally stares up at him with wide eyes. “ _You idiot_ ,” he growls, “ _I love you_ ,” and he leans down, resting some of his weight against Wally’s body as he moves in and kisses him on the mouth, a kiss aggressive enough to part his lips, as he promptly slides his tongue between them.

And Wally’s trying to think, _Wait, so what did the guy do again_ , but he realizes he’s worried about a movie, a crappy movie at that, and screw the movie because _oh my god_ what is going on anyway-

Wally’s winding his arms around Roy’s chest, pulling himself up as they deepen the kiss, Wally gasping into his mouth as Roy tilts his face and closes their mouths together. Tongues tasting each other, hands roaming across each other’s bodies, heavy panting and suppressed sighs and whines from Wally as he wants to die, he just wants to _die_ because Roy’s strong arms are winding around him and Roy’s breath is hot and his body is warm and he would die exactly, perfectly happy right now.

Their kiss ends with a small whimper, and Wally’s looking at him with fearful eyes. Fearful because he doesn’t want to let go, because he doesn’t want Roy to let go, because he’s worried he’s ruined what’s between them and even if Roy doesn’t see him in _that_ way he wants to be able to hold him like this and to never stop being held like this, ever.

But Roy sends him a calm look, and leans in, giving a gentle nudge to the side of his face when he plants a small kiss there, just below his eyes. His breathing is still deep but so slow, so _slow_ , as he starts to trail those slow and gentle kisses across his face, the second on his cheek, the third by his ear, the fourth just below his jaw-line.

Wally can’t wait for the rest; he literally can’t.

So he turns to interrupt the next one, meeting him on the mouth. Roy blinks back at him in surprised, before leaning in and kissing him on the lips again, one kiss that becomes several in a row as he doesn’t even pull back, he just kisses and kisses because he doesn’t want to stop; can’t stop.

Wally’s hands run through his hair, and across his back; he pants into those kisses, his vision blurring and his heart racing miles a minute. Without thinking, he starts to press his body against him, grinding himself slowly against every reachable surface of Roy’s body, straddling his lap as he presses their groins together, feels the heat growing as it spreads like fire up their chests, and through their arms, still hopelessly, desperately clinging to each other.

Roy becomes aware of what Wally is doing, but he doesn’t stop it. He finds a moment to ask, in between hurried breaths, “Are you sure.”

Wally’s kissing him again, as he startles with him a question, broken into pieces between kisses, “Did you… mean what.. you said?”

“What,” and another kiss.

Another kiss, “The girl,” another kiss, “fromthemovie.”

Roy holds that next kiss for a longer amount of time; he tastes Wally’s mouth almost delicately, licking along his lips before withdrawing his tongue back into his mouth. And he gives a slow nod, “Yes.”

Wally stifles a smile, but his face flushes red.

Roy stares back in awe.

Wally nods, “Then yes.” He’s kissing him again, and he murmurs against his lips, “Yes.”

Wally is so warm. Wally is _so_ warm. Roy doesn’t ever get tired of holding him.

And when they start to slow down, and to turn their attention further down their bodies, he’s amazed by how warm he is there, too.

_Oh God, someone shoot me now._

He’s running his hands across Wally’s bare chest as he slides his shirt off, taking his time on purpose.

_This isn’t-_

_This isn’t happening-_

But it is.

-

Wally’s skin is so smooth. Roy trails his fingers across it, delighting in how it makes the boy shiver, how it makes his temperature rise. Hot to the touch and getting hotter, it’s enough to make him even harder than he already was; and that’s genuinely saying a lot.

Because Wally’s body is beautiful and soft, he’s lean and gorgeous and fit and agile and reactive as he moves beneath him, his legs getting tangled up in the sheets, his hands roaming and clawing along his back, his chest rising and falling dramatically with every breath.

It’s not sex. But it’s so damn close he doesn’t care.

He can feel the heat radiating between them, the sweat collecting on their bodies. He catches the scent of sweat and pre-cum, and the wet sounds of kisses and licks as their mouths come together.

Wally gasps every time Roy rolls his body down and presses in against him, and every time their dicks make contact he feels the reaction, the subsequent twitch. He reaches a hand down to hold them together, to keep them pressed as tightly together as possible, and he’s amazed at how damn hot and swollen Wally’s member is, almost more than his own.

He hears Wally whine, as he starts to pump them together, and their breaths are ragged and sharp and their bodies are hot and wet and pre-cum’s leaking onto his hand and it acts as a _magnificent_ lubricant.

He looks up at Wally; watches him intently as he gazes back at him, eyes half-lidded with a pleasant mix of desire and exhaustion. His arms still caressing his back, slowly, lovingly. His legs are buckling, as he puts some ammunition behind thrusts upwards, thrusts that match Roy’s grinding against him.

So hot, so hot, so _fucking_ hot. Roy can’t breathe right. He can’t keep himself steady.

Wally’s shaking and moving and shaking and it’s an almost blinding pleasure when he starts to tremble erratically, a shake that starts slow and works its speed up as he gets more excited. Wally’s _shaking_ , from his legs to his cock to his chest and his arms that hold onto him so tightly, so tight, like he’s going to leave.

But Roy’s not going anywhere.

He slides his tongue back into his mouth, as he continues to jack them off, having to break it a few strokes in to pant desperately, ragged and heavy, their faces pressed together, Wally’s hurried pants and sighs fluttering against his neck. Roy swears he can feel the fucking bed move, because Wally’s _still_ shaking, he’s shaking and _fuck_ he’s getting so close to coming but he does _not_ want this to end yet.

Deep inside, he’s scared this may never happen again. What a joke. Roy Harper. _Scared._

But he is.

So he turns his attention back to Wally’s gasping, desperate face, kissing his soft skin, licking where his neck meets his ear, kissing along his jaw line, anything he can reach. Wally’s trembling so bad it’s difficult to land a more sincere contact, but these quick kisses and licks do the trick. And when he manages to catch his mouth, he feels the boy shaking against the kiss, his lips trembling as he watches him close his eyes, heavy lashes falling closed as he starts to whine, the sound humming into the kiss.

And when Roy pulls back to breathe, he does so just in time to see Wally’s eyes open suddenly, as he looks up at him with some alarm, a state of being completely overwhelmed—worse than he’s ever seen before—overwhelmed and wild and dazed as he gasps and moans his name.

 _Fuck_ , that is almost everything he needs.

But it takes just a little more…

Just a little more, as ejaculate decorates his stomach, and bathes his hand with slick lubricant. Just a little more…

As Wally drifts through his orgasm and comes down, he’s smiling in pleasure, as he continues to stare at Roy with the adoring look of a dazed lover.

Roy finds his mouth one more time— _so_ much easier now that he’s fallen still, and that incredible vibrating has stopped—and he explores his mouth delicately this time, slowly, gently, lovingly savoring his taste, savoring his texture, the _feel_ of him, as he feels the boy’s hands climbing up his back again, caressing his shoulder blades, stroking along his spine.

Wally reaches up, and buries a hand in his hair; holds him close, to keep them connected, to keep their kiss deep and _close_ and intimate as Roy arrives at the end.

When Wally buckles his hips against his one more time, that’s all it takes.

And Roy’s gone. He’s gone. He closes his eyes, moans into their kiss, as Wally holds him firm, holds him still, as Roy shakes and trembles and comes hard, comes all over his chest.

And when he finally calms down, his breathing slow, his face relaxed and his movements coming to a standstill, Wally releases his hold on him as Roy leans back slightly, glancing down and managing a small, low laugh.

“What?” Wally asks, a hesitant curiosity in his voice.

Roy shakes his head, “We’re a sticky mess,” as he pulls back his hand and looks at it in awe.

“Wow,” Wally says with some astonishment, with a slow grin.

Roy sits up, and Wally immediately feels the weight of empty space between them. The air in the room is _cold_ , and he’s so hot and sweaty and Roy is hot and sweaty and it doesn’t seem fair for them to be parted, even for a second-

Roy leans over, reaching beneath the bed to grab a Kleenex box. He’s dabbing at their bodies, Wally’s first and then his—which is arguably even worse—tossing the cum-soaked tissues to the floor. He’d clean later. Cleaning was not a priority.

Wally gets antsy. He’s been roaming around up there for too long. “Come back,” he whines softly.

“What,” Roy looks at him, perplexed.

When Wally opens his arms to him, Roy tries to stifle a quiet laugh.

But inside, he’s screaming. The good kind. He’s yelling and crying and dancing around. He’s losing it. He’s losing his composure completely.

He settles back down calmly, with a pleasant sigh that’s more of a quiet exhale as he lays down beside Wally on the bed, frowning as he comes across a damp spot that got hit with cum. Wally giggles faintly at the face he makes, but Roy doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. Instead he lays down, his face calm and relaxed, his body at ease, his tension gone as he reaches an arm around Wally, gradually tugging him closer.

And when Wally crawls over, nestling his face where neck meets his shoulders, breathing gently against his chest and burying his arms against his warm skin, it’s all Roy can do to not give himself away.

 _I have always loved you._ That's what he wants to say.

He gently traces the smooth contours of his back, marveling at how smooth it is, and the fact that there are freckles even here, adorable ones that almost no one’s seen before.

 _I love you so fucking much I can’t even stand it._ That's what he wants him to know.

Wally gives a small sigh, as he moves even closer, so close his face is against his chest, now, and he moves so that half his body is flush against Roy’s. Their legs tangled together, their chests rising and falling at almost perfectly opposite rates to coordinate together, Wally’s fingers pressing against him and massaging whatever skin they come in contact with.

His touch is delicate and warm, and the small, contented sounds he’s making are… they’re just…

Roy loves them. He loves them.

And he starts to wonder about that fear he has, and he starts to believe that he doesn’t give a damn anymore. Because if Wally wants to leave, he’ll leave. But if he wants to stay…

“I love you,” he murmurs, as he nestles his face against the boy’s forehead, “I love you so much.”

Wally doesn’t respond. Not at first.

But what Roy can’t see, not from his vantage point, is that Wally’s eyes are growing wide, and his face is turning red. His bottom lip is trembling, and his entire face distorts into a kind of awe. And he even smiles a little when he responds back, smiles nervously like he’s embarrassed when he speaks. “You too.”

“What,” Roy’s not sure he heard correctly.

Wally’s voice, fragile and small, “I love you too.”

Roy’s too scared to comment back. Because he’s not sure that Wally means the same kind of love he does…

But he does. He _does_.

“You’re so warm,” Wally murmurs, his nervous energy coming out in the form of rushed and stumbling words, “You’re so warm and I didn’t know you liked hugs but I’m so glad you do because I love them and I love you and I’m so happy you actually let me touch you.”

Roy falls silent. But in that silence, he’s kissing Wally’s face again, kissing him on the forehead and above his eyes while he tries desperately to find the right words. But there aren’t any. Those words will never exist.

Words will never exist, for what he feels for Wally. This urge to hold onto him, to hold and never let go, to hold onto forever.

So in that absence, he simply repeats, “I love you so much,” and pulls him closer.

-

When Wally reports in at Mount Justice, he’s… _humming._

Quietly at first, then more assertive and louder, even dancing a little as he meanders around, during his usual checks to see what everyone’s up to. He’s bored, but for once he… doesn’t seem to mind it.

Dick knows his friend very well. He knows his friend _very_ well. So when Wally shows up on Cloud Nine, he knows he’s up to something. He knows something happened.

“What gives?” Dick strolls up to him and asks, peering at him from behind his mask.

“What gives with what?” he asks innocently.

“You’re… musical.”

“Hmm,” he delays a response, as he tugs back at the edge of his cowl and pulls it down to scratch at his hair.

The others turn to look at him suddenly, surprised at his sudden disregard for his uniform.

He idly says, “No reason.”

Dick frowns at him. “Really.”

“Yeah,” but his nervous grin betrays him. And as the blush appears and deepens on his face, and as Dick’s frown becomes increasingly prominent, Wally has to give in. He shrugs a little, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“ _Okay._ Something’s up.”

Dick crosses his arms and stares up at him, waiting.

“So there. We're good now,” he slides the cowl back on, adjusting it around his eyes as he looks around the room. “Time to go on superhero adventures-”

Dick nudges him in the side.

“Owww.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you say what’s up.”

“Who made you the boss?”

“Wally.”

“What,” he whines.

“Wally.”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“For real this time?”

“Yeah.”

There’s an anxious silence. An uncertain silence. Wally’s trying to think of what to say, but every time he attempts to consider the subject, a flood of thoughts and words and emotions comes to mind.

_I have a boyfriend. It’s Roy. I love him. He loves me. I got to hug him. He likes holding me. He’s my cuddle partner so you don’t have to worry. He’ll take care of me. I’m fine. I’m happy. I have a boyfriend. It’s Roy. I love him-_

Dick whines, “Wally!” to break him from his thoughts.

But since he interrupted Wally during the part of his thoughts that were about love, and how amazing Roy made him feel, he quickly leaned over, and brought Dick into a tight embrace.

In his arms, Dick was slowly melting. The anger in his face dissolved away, replaced by the hesitant, gradual return of light hands at his back, light hands and gentle arms that held back with a charming uncertainty and kind intention.

This may be.. the first hug Dick had ever given him. Wally reveled in that. Just for a moment. And he lets the smile spread across the face as he stays there for a few extended seconds, feeling affectionate and loved and wanting to communicate even just a tiny bit of that if he could.

When he pulls away, he says, “Thanks for everything.”

Dick looks up at him with a blank look on his face, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah you did,” Wally grins a little. And as that blush comes back with a vengeance, he murmurs, “You _told_ him.”

“I…” Dick’s confusion quickly changes key, as his jaw drops. “I… _him._ ” He barely says it, “Roy.”

Wally says with a sheepish smile, “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” He reaches his arms behind his back idly, clasping his hands together as he even sways a little, to ease his nervous energy. “And he wants you to know, that he’s sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being mean.” His voice drops to a faint near-whisper, as he leans in, “He says he was being..” his eyes shift to the side, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, “Possessive.”

Dick’s jaw drops for a moment. “Wait…”

“You’re not mean,” Wally smiles at him. “You’re really kind. You were trying to help me. And… you brought us together.”

As he sways back and forth, Dick’s eyes are growing wide behind his mask as those words sink in. He gasps, “He’s your…”

Wally doesn’t say it, but he mouths the word to him, “Boyfriend.”

Dick nearly jumps back in surprise.

Wally laughs.

Dick hesitantly moves closer to him, “So you’re… okay?”

“Yeah,” Wally has a lingering smile on his face, “Thank you... Robin,” he remembers the alias.

“Sure,” but he’s not sure he completely understands.

So Wally was upset because he liked Roy…

And Roy threw that hissy fit...

…and liked Wally the _whole_ time?

Some people.

_Some people._

Seriously.

Dick just shakes his head, “As long as you’re happy.”

To answer that, Wally pulls him into another hug. He doesn’t have a single word to say, but he smiles, and smiles.

Even after he lets go, he smiles.

He can’t stop.


End file.
